Wait, You're a punk?
by Oxide The Hedgehog
Summary: Oxides story of being a punker in the early 80s hardcore scene. Going through the struggles of police brutality, the media fucking with the genre and skewering its meaning, Drug and Alcohol abuse and his fucked up deadbeat dad. (Story takes place in Mobotropolis but takes alot of inspiration from other places like California during the early 80s punk scene, Boston and DC)
1. Introduction

Mobotropolis, a lot of people see it as a prosperous, clean city, and the few criminals that are there get tossed behind bars. Well, this is not the case for the ghetto of Mobotropolis, a ghetto so bad that the ruler of Mobotropolis trys their best to make sure people focus on the rich, clean, drug and crime free parts of the city.

Many of the residents in Mobotropolis were under-educated, drop outs, druggies, punks or thugs. Oxide was a punker, a druggie, but he wasn't a drop out. Oxide was known, or more accurately, unknown for a punk band he plays in called 'The Methematics'. The band members are Jason 'Vicious' T. Hedgehog, nick named vicious for having a striking appearance to Sid Vicious, he plays rhythm guitar. The bassist is named Logan 'Napalm' T. Hedgehog, nicknamed Napalm for having a distinct bass sound that sounds like bombs dropping at all times, like a constant, never ending explosion. The drummer is a purple hedgehog named Tristan 'Tomata' T. Hedgehog, He has his hair similar in style to 'Tomata Du Plenty'. Lead singer for the 70s LA Synth-Punk band 'The Screamers'. He is the drummer, and a heavy hitter at that, he has incredible arm strength, allowing him to use his entire arm while playing fast paced drums, instead of just flicking his wrist, creating a heavier sound.

Oxides band was known for their chaotic performances, only helped by the fact that Oxide was on Speed, Cocaine, or both most of the time while playing, Their lyrics had a very heavy 70s punk vibe to it. Being offensive for the sake of being offensive, doing shit that would make any sober person scratch their head or back away out of the club, like diving head first into a wall, diving into the drum kit, diving into broken glass, diving into the audience while still playing, or pretending their instruments are swords/baseball bats and start swinging at each other. Very few people know of their chaotic performances since the largest crowd they played to yet is 50-90 people. half of which left before the first song even finished, they were that bad, so they masked it by doing crazy shit.

Their lyrics dealt with Politics, war, Facism, poking fun at Political figures and such, as well as killing. Killing cops, killing parents, killing teachers, killing others, and killing themselves. Oxide has said many times that he'd kill himself onstage, many think hes just joking around and is all bark and no bite, others think hes gonna do what GG Allin was never able to do, and they hope Oxide won't die from a drug over dose like GG did before being able to complete such a task.

 _Well, thats the introduction everyone, I'll probably do the first (Real) chapter tomorrow, (Well, technically its tomorrow already *Its 12:39AM right now* but anyway) so yah..._

 _You can leave now..._


	2. Another day

It is dusk in Mobotropolis, this is around the time that people will be having dinner, returning from work, or be putting their kids in bed for their nights sleep. For a certain orange hedgehog who goes by the name 'Oxide', it was pretty much morning for him. It was Sunday on May 14th, 1980 Oxide slowly picked himself up from his bed, wearing nothing but a pair of boxer shorts and a less-than-white T-Shirt. Oxide made his way to the bathroom, stepping over all the drug paraphernalia and broken records on his floor, he opened the door and walked in, looking into the mirror. He grabbed a bottle of hair gel and lubed his hands up with the stuff, he then ran his hands through his messy hair, spiking it up to make it stand on end. He stood still for a while as he let it set, once it had, he went back into his bedroom and began to rummage through his clothes drawer, looking for something to wear for what little of the day there was left. He took off his shirt and underwear, and put on a shirt that had 4 black bars, put in place to make it look like a flag, on the top it said 'Black' and below it said 'Flag'. He put on a pair of black pants, half of the left leg being held together with safety pins.

He then walked out of his bedroom, only to be greeted with his dad screaming in his face. "ITS ABOUT FUCKING TIME YOU GOT UP YOU LAZY FAGGOT PUNKER!" He screamed into Oxides face, slapping him before storming off. Oxide just walked to the door, grabbed his jacket, put on his shoes, grabbed his guitar and skateboard and made his way out the door. "HEY! GET BACK HERE!" His dad commanded, chasing after him. Oxi skated into the sunset on his skateboard, jacket slung over his should and guitar case in hand, he grabbed the bumper of a Station wagon and began to hitch a ride to the his bands practise space. He let go after the car was starting to take a turn that would lead further away from his destination.

He skated up to the practise space, which looked like any other suburban home, except for the fact that on the door there was a big Swaztika with a 'No' symbol over lapping it. It read 'Nazi Punks fuck off' in big bold, black capital letters. He pushed the door open and inside was Tristan, Napalm and Vicious, all of them sitting on the couch and taking hits off of what looked like a hand crafted bong. "Hey guys..." Oxi waved to the 3 of them, they all looked over, Vicious smiled. "Oh hey Oxide, glad you made it!" He said with a smile as he got up and passed him the bong, Oxi took a hit and let out a cloud of smoke. Oxide chuckled as he passed the bong to Napalm. "So what time do we have to be at the Cuckoos nest? And whos playing before and after us?" Oxide asked Tristan, Sitting on the arm rest of the couch. "We gotta be there in like 10 minutes, the band playing before us is a band called '999', 'pperantly they're from the UK. The bands playing after us are the Adolescents, Circle jerks, Black flag, and then TSOL..." Tristan then cracked open a 40 oz, it was a tradition for him, and at times the entire band, to get really wasted before a show, even though all of them were under 21, hell only Tristan was legally an Adult.

"Hey whats with the red mark on your muzzle man?" Napalm asked as he looked at Oxide, this caused everyone to look at Oxides face, where there was a very visible red mark on his right cheek. "Dad?" Tristan looked at him, showing some sympathy. "...Yah..." Oxi finally uttered, looking away before looking back at Tristan. "...You gonna hog that 40 oz or what?" He smirked, grabbing the bottle before taking a swig from it before passing it to the others to drink from. "We should probably get going, come on, lets load this shit in." Tristan got up and started to haul the amps out of the house and the band soon followed in Tristans footsteps. Soon enough, the van was loaded up along with the band and they were doing 80 in a 50 zone to the club.

They got there just in time, no time for soundcheck. But enough time to get everything hauled onto the stage, set up the mics, amps and drum kit, plug everything in and have just enough time to spare for Tristan to finish off the 40oz before the crowd gathered infront of them. Oxides band was able to draw decent sized crowds to their shows, around 100-150 people on a good day, and 20-40 people on a bad day but hey, people were still seeing them play. Oxides band, going by the name 'The Methematics' ripped through their 30 minute setlist, playing songs such as 'Kill all authority' or 'Bacon Squad' or 'Welcome to Hell'.

"Bullshits neverending  
arguements so condescending  
Your a fucking hypocrite  
Why don't you fucking quit

Sick and tired of your shit  
Stuck up whiny little bitch  
Don't get your way, throw a fit  
Can't stand the fact  
That your a fucking hypocrite

Argue on the phone all day  
Shove all reason away  
You just can't be fucking asked  
To do something, get off your ass

(Chorus)"

Oxides vocals were harsh, and out of key. He couldn't sing in key to save his fucking life, but the guitars, bass and drums made up for it. And Oxides songwriting lyric wise wasn't to bad either. They finished their set and hauled everything off and into the van, sticking around in a nearby Laundromat while waiting for the next band to begin playing. In the laundry mat, it was quite common to store Alcohol in one of the out of order dryers. There was usually plenty of liquid spirit to go around for many of the punks, many of whom were getting into the club via fake ID. It also wasn't uncommon to see shows get shut down before they finished cause the rednecks in the bar over called 'Zubies' began fights with the other punkers. Luckily it wasn't one of those nights, atleast not yet.

What Black flag began playing, 3 songs in and all hell broke loose. 10 Rednecks wearing football helmets and carrying aluminium baseball bats came up to the club. The punkers saw this and 100 punks were chasing out of 10 Rednecks, The punks caught up with some of them and started beating the living shit out of them, One skinhead grabbed one of the bats and started bringing it down on the rednecks head. If it wasn't for the helmets they were wearing, this Rednecks head would be nothing but brain matter, luckily Oxide and the band managed to get out of there after the crowd cleared and they floored it down the road, Oxide was dropped off at his house, he snuck in through the window leading into his room and crawled into bed. But before doing that, he took a couple of Indica filled bong hits and after doing that, he crawled into bed and fell asleep. Another day of being a punker in the early 80s.


	3. SS (School Sucks!)

May 15th, 1980 in Mobotropolis. A very tired Oxide slept on his less-than-sanitary-looking bed as he was off in dreamland. He seemed rather peaceful, his dreams weren't filled with murder or drug abusing or anything else law abiding citizens think punks dream of, nor was he dreaming of his deadbeat father beating the hell outta him. He was dreaming of a world where everyone got along, a world that hes always wanted to live in as a kid. Now he knows that will never happen, especially when Reagan is now running for office, but he still likes to dream it.

This was all ruined by his alarm clock ringing loudly beside his ear, signalling it was 7AM and it was time to get his punker ass out of bed. He smashed his open hand down against the clock, turning it off as he slowly rose from his bed and looked around the room, trying to get his eyes to focus so he could actually get ready for school. Once he was able to properly see he made his way to the bathroom in his room, he got into the shower and turned on the water and for whatever reason. He loved cold showers, maybe it was cause they helped wake him up in the morning as he would usually fall asleep when 2AM rolled around and his normal waking time was afternoon or dusk.

After scrubbing himself down, he dried himself off before wrapping the now slightly damp towel around his waist as he began to blow dry his hair. After doing so he walked out and got dressed, putting on the typical punk garb such as: Band Tee, ripped jeans, skater shoes, and his leather jacke., he then went back into the bathroom and started spiking his hair again, letting his fingers run through his hair as he bent forward to let his hair fall forwards, letting it set like that so it would stay standing. After spraying it with hairspray to help hold it in place, and blow drying to speed up the process of well, drying, he walked out of his room into the living room.

Luckily, his dad was at the factory, his mom was working in the kitchen. He loved his mom, he really did and he didn't know why she was still with his sorry excuse for a dad. Perhaps it was cause she might, for some reason, still love him, Or maybe shes worried what will happen to her if she decided to run away or divorce him, she could be worried that she will end up beaten, horribly disfigured, or worse if she trys to do such a thing. Oxide sat at the table in the dining room, a plate of eggs and toast were waiting for him along with a cup of orange juice near the plate. He smiled as he sat down and began to eat, eating it quickly before he got up and gave a quick 'thank you' and 'love you mom' before rushing off on his skateboard, backpack on his back and guitar case in hand as he sped off to school.

East Mobotropolis high wasn't a highschool one would go to to get an education, go to college, have a family and get married and have a white picket fence outside of the 2 story house in a nice suburban neighbour hood. It was a school where people would go just because there parents told them too, but usually they would just skip most classes, smoke pot or drink while looking for trouble. Oxide rode up to the school on his Black flag skateboard deck and walked in. Even in a highschool filled with outcasts and outsiders and such, he was still considered a loser. Oxide had grown immune to people calling him 'faggot' or 'cocksucker' or 'punk rock shithead'. It was just white noise at a low volume. Still annoying, but it wasn't gonna kill him if someone called him a name in the hallways.

First class was English, luckily it was bearable as Tristan was in the same class, along with another punker named 'Conner'. No one knew his last name, not even the teachers or the principle. The teacher was nice enough, though she seemed to have a slight racist side to her, she never out right said anything racist, but the way she acted around those of different muzzle or fur colour made it look somewhat suspicious. Especially around those from eastern Mobius, but oh well that wasn't any of Oxides concern. He just wanted to get through this class, get the grades he needed, go to college and have something to fall back on if being a musician failed.

"Alright now everyone turn to page 45, and read through till page 47 please and thank you." The english teacher was writing the instructions for todays class on the chalkboard at the front of the classroom. Oxide wrote everything down, read, took notes. Did all of the work and everything he didn't wanna do but kinda had to because bleh. It continued like this until the final period, Music.

This was Oxides favourite, and somehow at the same time least favourite class as he got to play guitar, but it was stuff he didn't wanna play and everyone were pretentious assholes who thought they were gonna be big and looked down upon Oxide and the other punks for being well, Punks. Oxide set up, plugged into the amplifier and sat down, in one of the chairs. The rest of the students were either already in the music room or were filing into said room, they all set up, got their music on the music stands and waited for which piece the teacher wanted them to play.

The teacher, who went by the name Mrs Adams was really nice to Oxide, she knew he was passionate about music and she disliked how the other students treated him. Oxide wasn't a very skilled or talented musician, he knew how to solo on scales, but he only know a handful of blues scales and barely knew any chords besides power chords so if someone were to play a G chord, Oxi would play the barchord varient. "Hey look, its the punker..." One of the guys snickered, looking at Oxide before looking away again as he and his friends laughed, and Oxide just gave them the middle finger behind their backs.

"Why do you even try to play guitar when you suck at it?" One of the other guitarists sneered whos name was Mike, one thing to note is this guy wasn't really any better at guitar than Oxide, but he was good looking so that got him extra points as a musician. "I don't know, why do you try to get girls when we all know your suckin' something else on friday night?" Oxide shot back, the class 'ooooo'd at the comeback, the other was growing agitated. "Least I ain't an actual faggot like you." He spat at Oxide, more ooooo's as if the place was haunted. "I may be a faggot, and I may suck at guitar, but atleast I **know** I suck at guitar. Unlike you who thought that you were a god and decided to play Eruption and choke infront of hundreds of kids in last years talent show..." Oxi ended with, some of the kids began to laugh their asses off as the asshole kid didn't know what to think of next.

The kid pulled off his guitar and smashed his closed fist into Oxides face, Oxide was **not** in the mood, so he took off his guitar and started swinging as well. His friends jumped in and started kicking the living shit out of Oxide until the principle pulled Oxide off and dragged him by his ear to the principles office.

"You young man are in a lot of trouble!" The principle yelled in Oxides face, Oxide was waiting for a chance to speak, but there wasn't alot of chances to do so. Not with her screaming at him like he was a mile away where infact he was a few meters away. "Why should I know expel a punker like you?" She asked him, smirking. "Well, I wasn't the one who started it, infact I was-" He was cut off. "I don't care! Detention for a week! If you don't show up, 2 weeks plus the week you owe!" She then pointed to the door, Oxide sighed and got up and left. But once he was out of ear shot, he said. "Fuck you you fucking old bag, you're just mad cause the last time you had sex was in 1915" He said as he went to collect his things.

The school bell rung and Oxide knew that if he didn't show up, she'd just call his parents and if his dad got a hold of the phone then, he'd beat the living hell out of Oxide. So he showed up for an hour long detention in the study hall. 'This sucks' Oxides thoughts said as he scribbled on a piece of paper, mainly doing logos for his band though he really couldn't think of anything to use. A lot of the good logos were being taken by all the new bands cropping up and he needed to think of one before it was too late. He drew an M and then put a line diagonally through it, but it just looked like 2 'Vandals' logos flipped upside down and put together, he had to think of something original.

By the time detention finished, Oxide only had The Methematics in a very scribbly font, it was still legible but he told himself he'd think of a better one as for now he had to get to band practise. He ran out, grabbing his guitar, skateboard, bag and everything else before doing a caveman down the schools front door stair set and skating away. He rolled up to the band house and walked in, there sat the band who were once again waiting for Oxide to show up. "Detention?" Tristan asked in his usual monotone, bored voice as he looked up to see Oxi walk in and plug into his amplifier. "Yah, fucking kids beat me up and I got the fuckin' blame, I hate my principle." Oxide tuned up, pausing at times to speak as speaking and tuning up was hard to do since his ears weren't that good at tuning by ear.

"Whens our next show man?" Napalm asked through a thick cloud of THC as he took a bong hit, passing it to Jason who did much of the same, releasing a thick cloud of smoke into the air. "Yah man, After that police raid, theres no way we're gonna be able to get another show there for a while man. And all the other clubs only allow top 40 cover bands, basically bands that try to look cool but are really just hiding up the fact that they're all losers like us." What Jason said caused the others to laugh out loud a little. "Yah, top 40 shit sucks, its all 20 minute guitar and drum solos with what might as well be a woman dressing and looking like a man with a soggy pickle in their black leather tights." Oxi added, causing the others to laugh even louder. "Fuck, well. Lets get playing, before we lose all motivation to do so and just smoke pot and get drunk." Oxi suggested as he strapped on his guitar and cranked the knobs on his Red, beaten and battered Hagstrom II.

"1 2 3 4

The men in blue walk down the street  
They aren't your friends, they're the enemy  
Pistol in one hand, donut in the other  
Better start running, they already kill my mother

Here come the bacon squad  
They think they do no wrong  
Here come the donut dogs  
Fascist cop, They're all wrong

The men in blue bust down your door  
Thought you were safe, you ain't no more  
Break your TV, Smash the glass  
Better run or they'll kick your ass!

Here come the bacon squad  
They think they do no wrong  
Here come the donut dogs  
Fatass cops they're all fucking wrong!"

Hours of playing went by as the band made horrible noise that would've pissed off all of the neighbours within a 3 mile radius had there been any. All the houses were either vacant, abandoned, or non existent as this was a quieter part of the Neighbour hood that the band practised in, making it perfect for playing with everything cranked to 10 and playing in the backyard at the same noise levels. Only twice have the cops been called and only once was the show shut down, which was good for the band cause it meant more playing and more playing meant more exposure to others seeing their band and more people seeing their band equalled more people possibly becoming fans of their horrible, out of tune, off tempo, ear splittingly loud and fast music that they all created together.

9PM rolled around and Oxi had to get home, so he packed up his guitar, and skated home with his leather jacket on and backpack on his back. He snuck in through the window again and took a few bong hits to help the 16 year old punker sleep, as he would need it again for school the next day, as much as he didn't wanna go. Just Another day...


End file.
